


Yours in Life, Merlin

by Kangarooney



Series: Reasons Why Merlin Really Deserves a Day Off [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Immortal, Magic, Personification, introspections, introspective, of ordinary objects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 09:20:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30086889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangarooney/pseuds/Kangarooney
Summary: Every year, since the fall of Camelot, Merlin has received a letter. This year, he doesn't.
Series: Reasons Why Merlin Really Deserves a Day Off [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/754407
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Yours in Life, Merlin

_Every year, since the fall of Camelot, you have received a letter from me._

Merlin sucked his cheek tight against his teeth. Hm. ‘Letter’ was perhaps too strong of a word. He sliced the word in half with a neat, black line. Above the crossed-out word, he wrote another.

_Every year, since the fall of Camelot, you have received a ~~letter~~ _ _ note _ _from me._

He tapped the quill against his teeth. No, that didn’t sound quite right either. Perhaps letter _was_ the better word. He hardly just went a scratched a few words out before sending them on their way. No, he liked to spend more time thinking through the words than was probably necessary considering _he_ sent them first.

He leant forward once more.

_My friend, since the fall of Camelot, I have written you of ~~grave~~ ~~important~~ ~~useful~~_

Oh goddess above.

Merlin flicked his hand and the ink jumped away from the paper and sullenly crawled back into the ink pot. “Oh don’t you start pouting.” He flicked the lid closed. “If you were a bit more helpful maybe I could have been done already and you would be off on your merry way!”

The glass dish rattled threateningly back.

Merlin knew it was all rattle and no action. Where else would the ink live if it let its bottle jump off the table as it liked to threaten?

He huffed and made to get up when he noticed the paper was happily rustling away. This particular piece had been bashful for quite a few years, actually. Merlin can recall how it would always leap to the floor right as he reached for one every year. But now, the last of its sheaf, the paper had remained and proudly held still long enough for him to collect.

If anything, Merlin owed it to the bashful paper to complete his task. He felt the corner of his lip curling up and away as he watched the paper furl in and flatten back out again, excited and nervous and ready to go again.

“I suppose we can give it another go.” He meant to say aloud. His voice echoed from up and to his left and he turned to glare (with only his eyes and eyebrow) at the grin which had decided to take flight from his face.

Merlin was only the slightest bit annoyed. The fluttering grin was particularly infectious – if only he had his mouth back that he might smile too!

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Merlin raised his right hand, the top four fingers pressed evenly to the thumb. He parted them and mimed speech, converting his words to his hand so that his lips might respond of their own accord. “Hello, up there!”

The lips grinned back. “Oh hello.” They replied, still flitting about. Out of politeness, they remained facing his direction.

“Would you mind popping back down on the face for a bit?” His hand flapped out. The index and pinky fingers raised at the end of his question, mimicking ears awaiting a reply. Never mind Merlin’s own, perfectly functional ears on the side of his head. Occasionally his hand liked to pretend it was in a play and who was Merlin to dissuade it from its dreams of playing Ariel from _The Tempest_?

“Oh alright.” The mouth replied and floated down until it had resumed its proper position on Merlin’s face.

“Much better.” He stretched his tongue out. His tongue had gotten a bit cramped inside there.

“Now, how about we go right ahead and keep working on this letter?” The paper excitedly shifted closer to him, its corners curled invitingly.

Merlin cast a glance over at the pouting ink pot. It quivered for a few seconds longer before eagerly joining them. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. This was the most excitement any of them had each year. Merlin didn’t have a lot of people to write on a routine basis. Not many shared similar lifetimes.

He took up his quill and focused on the task at hand.

 _Ever since the fall of Camelot, I have written you. Our exchanged letters have given me great comfort over the years and I look forward to all that follow_.

_I understand last we spoke, you worried about the leaking roof, knowing it to be mourning the eves. I trust you spoke about growing up and gave it the Talk? If not, then you’ll be in for more than a few teardrops soaking your linens! You may consider investing in some wool to plug your ears – for their reunion will be sweet and your back won’t be the only thing groaning!_

_I wish you well._

_Yours in life,_

_Merlin_

There. He leaned back in his seat and surveyed the finished product. Even as the millennia changed over, Merlin continued to write in the dignified cursive Gwen and had taught.

He smiled at the inkpot which was spinning about the desk top with the quill. The finished paper was admiring the words decorating it. The room was singing in its old raspy voice, of good days and Camelot.

At the feeling of the corner of his lips twitching, Merlin covered his mouth with a hand. Oh he’d just gotten the joyful smile to come back to his face, without this task to focus on it would be much harder to convince it a second time.

He stretched and let the chair twirl away to play with the footstool. The two of them were well beyond their years, and yet they continued to play as if they were newly varnished.

He shook his head fondly. With a light whistle, he beckoned to the red ribbon which floated from its perch below the hanging plants to twine about his fingers. “Oh look at you.” He murmured, rubbing it fondly. “Ready to go on a journey, then my friend?” The ribbon spun once more before fluttering down beside the preening letter.

Merlin waggled an eyebrow at the paper which obediently curled into a scroll, which the ribbon tied itself around. There. Now all he had to do was address it and the scroll would be on its merry way as soon as the sun set.

He snapped his fingers and the eloquent scrawl, so familiar to his own (in fact it _was_ his own) settled the familiar name of the recipient: _Merlin_.

The warm glow of the sun faded and with its light, so did the animation of the oddities around him. The scroll vanished and his stool settled down. The glow and magic faded together and Merlin was left alone in the darkness, waiting for sunrise when he would receive his reply.

Except.

When the sun rose, the magic did not return.

And no scroll sat upon his desk ready to be read.

And for the first time in a millennium, Merlin was alone.

His future-self had either forgotten or finally, _finally_ passed.

**Author's Note:**

> This was from an old figment.com prompt I found while cleaning out my email. The prompt was: "Every year your character receives a visit from their future self, until this year."


End file.
